


Break and Fall a Different Way

by CelticGHardy



Category: This Means War (2012)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-20
Updated: 2017-01-20
Packaged: 2018-09-18 16:22:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,248
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9393482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CelticGHardy/pseuds/CelticGHardy
Summary: Grabbing him a little harsher now, both hands on one of his arms, he muttered, “Upstairs.” The bathrooms were hopefully clear of people. Lauren would likely be the only person there. -In the woman’s room, and I am not dragging him in there. No, that would be incredibly rude.-





	

Something cracked.

Lauren disappeared to the restrooms on the second floor, and FDR knew she picked up on the underlying current between the two. They could not play off not knowing each other after breaking years of work. “You have neither the grace nor humility to lose like a man do you?” Tuck hissed, enraged that his _former_ friend showed up at their dinner. The man was packing his stuff, was going to be gone and he could have a good ending. FDR was going to ruin that, interrupting whatever he thought about what happened between the two. No, no, he wasn’t allowing him to just waltz in and get what he wants, again. Not again, not allowing him to just get whatever he wants.

Franklin knew that this was a terrible decision. It would have been easier to call, or well, for someone else to call and inform him about the situation. He wouldn’t have been able to call him, his number likely blocked by now. His voice would earn an automatic hangup. Instead, it was a face to face. This had been their assignment. No matter the rift between the two, they still had to deal with the fallout. It was their job. “It's Heinrich,” he said, “He's in LA. We have to get on it right now.”

“You know, you are incredible,” he said. _Incredibly fucking annoying. You found an excuse to stay. Transferring to another unit, a fucking cover so you can have another shot with the woman *I* dated first, that I was meant to have._ “Really, you are. I have to take my hat off to you. This is impressive.”

_He really thinks I'm doing this just to get back at her._ “Listen,” he tried, landing a hand on his arm.

“You take your hands off me.”

“This is not-”

“Take your hand off me, mate,” he muttered, anger growing in him.

“Tuck, Tuck.” _Come on, please?_

“Yeah,” he said, close to growling at him.

He let go. Not going to work. Not going to work. Maybe he would have to work with someone in the agency to throw Hendrich off before going away. “Yeah, all right,” he ended, already planning the next steps to keep Tuck and Lauren safe.

Tuck smacked him. “Where you going?” he asked, not wanting to see this over yet. Either that or he wanted FDR to admit that he wasn't coming back. Wasn't going to interfere again. He smacked him again. “Hey, where you going?”

FDR cracked. Maybe if he had exploded, it would have made more sense to those like them. Fight or flight was built into them at the Farm, driven back time and time again out in the field. Responding to the slaps and accusations with a punch, a fight, if they were by themselves and off mission. That would have made a lot more sense. Instead, the crumbled relationship between them, the inability to even reach out, to work together like they had in the first year they were partnered, his own emotions betrayed him.

Tuck, obviously also expecting the explosion of anger and waiting for a hit, looked over at Franklin when he turned away from him. He had switched from the steady, stable persona he had placed on, to curling, hunching in on himself. It took him a few seconds to search out his face. The other man was wiping away at constantly reforming tears. “Franklin?” he questioned, calming down a tad. He only received a watery glare before he went back to trying to ignore him and stop crying. Oh dear God. His wife cried when they started fighting. He didn’t know how to handle it then. He couldn’t handle it now. His ex-partner was crying. Tuck has never observed his partner cry over anything. Not even the anniversary of his parents’ death.

He was, at least, silent in his tears. The tables around them were trying to subtly, or not in the case of a younger woman, watch the unfolding events going on between the two. Now he was the one trying to initiate touch, laying a hand on his upper arm. FDR shrugged it off. “Fra-” he started.

“No,” he stopped, voice thick, “You don’t even get to try and apologize for this.” He uncurled one arm to point at him. “I was not here to stop the two of you. You wouldn’t even listen when I mentioned why I was here. I knew you wouldn’t answer your phone. I came here and you thought I was sabotaging you. Don’t you even try saying sorry.”

_“Are they boyfriends?”_ someone whispered.

_“Why was he with that woman?”_

Someone gasped, _“Is he cheating on him with her?”_

_“Who do you think Hendrich is?”_

_“Ex-boyfriend? Sounds like he shouldn’t be in the city, considering he came here to warn him.”_

Tuck started frowning at the talk circling around them. Someone also picked up on Hendrich, _Hendrich, fuck, no wonder he came here_ , and they were going to have to take this someplace private. Grabbing him a little harsher now, both hands on one of his arms, he muttered, “Upstairs.” The bathrooms were hopefully clear of people. Lauren would likely be the only person there. _In the woman’s room, and I am not dragging him in there. No, that would be incredibly rude._

Lauren jumped in shock as the two men she had been dating walked in. Tuck had a hold of FDR, who had red eyes, but had stopped actively crying. “What did you do?” she asked.

“I- this isn’t my fault,” he defended.

“I’m thinking I should have punched you instead,” FDR muttered.

“And that would have devolved into a brawl in the middle of the restaurant,” he argued, “Wait, is the crying fake? Were you faking, you twat?”

“I should have killed you in Kandahar,” he muttered, annoyed at the change in conversation.

“I was the only thing keeping you alive in Kandahar, mate,” Tuck reminded, “I was your only _friend_.”

“Friend?” Lauren interjected. Tuck looked over at her while FDR bent his head. “You two know each other?”

“Yes,” Tuck answered.

She accused, “So, what was this? Some sort of game? A bet, to see who could get the girl first?”

“No,” FDR said, feeling his voice thicken and his eyes start to water again.

Tuck tried, “Lauren, please, let me explain.”

She looked between the two of them. Lauren wasn’t sure what the hell was going on, or what happened in Kandahar. But she wasn’t happy that the two men that she had been dating at the same time turned out to have known each other as well. “I trusted you. The both of you.”

Tuck said, “Lauren.” FDR started crying anew, sniffling and folding in on himself again. The other man winced at the reemergence of crying. Trust was one of his touchie subjects. Her emotions switched from anger to guilt as she pulled out tissues from a nearby box for him to blot his eyes.

Neither of them could start calming him down when they heard muttering outside the door. Tuck carefully opened it to see two non-customers start walking through. “Hendrich’s here,” he muttered, closing the door again. FDR breathed deeply before wiping and throwing the tissues away. He pulled out a gun and turned off the safety before Tuck took it out of his hands. “You run with Lauren if they get by.” He nodded, before Tuck stepped out and started shooting.

**Author's Note:**

> This is likely going to be the only thing for this fandom, because it was just a little idea I had going in my head. Kinda cracky. The first thing I've posted in ages, because nothing's wanting to write. Except an original I'm working on. I've been just reading. ~~Star Trek fandom is huge and it gave me another father/son relationship that I adore.~~


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